


Call First

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Implied stuff is Victuuri not Otayuri, Implied stuff is p. vague, M/M, Otabek/Yuri is more implied than anything, Victor is a shit, takes place sometime in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Key or no key, calling ahead before you visit someone's house is a courtesy that shouldn't be forgotten.-“To be fair it IS their house.”“Beka.”“...and they’re married, so I mean...It probably isn’t just the couch, you know?”“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”





	

The unforgettable eyes of a soldier.  
The soldier finally saw too much. The stony, determined glare that everyone knew returned to the rink as a thousand yard stare. 

When Mila stops dead in her tracks to ask him what’s wrong, he doesn’t respond. When Georgi passes a worried glance to Lilia, who only arches a brow, Yuri doesn’t see. He doesn’t notice them at all. Otabek says nothing, but sees Yuri’s unsettled face and seems to intuitively know that Yuri will need to talk, eventually. He follows him without needing to say a word, and Yuri knows he’s there, just steps behind him. 

Yakov doesn’t seem to take note of Yuri’s blanched face when he starts shouting.  
“Did you tell that idiot to hurry up and get here? Why isn’t he with you?”  
“I...” he starts, voice light. “I’m going to go sit down.”  
As he leaves to head for the cafeteria, Otabek silently follows, leaving Yakov grumbling in the echo of the rink. 

He makes it to one of the hard plastic seats in the cafeteria before shoving his face into his hands with a pained groan. Otabek, ever vigilant, drops a bottle of water onto the table next to the agonized young man. 

“Are you alright?”

“Fuck NO.” Yuri half yells into his hands. He lifts up and practically rips the plastic lid off the water before downing a third of it. 

Otabek’s raised eyebrow asks the question for him. Why? Yuri shudders and he puts his face back down.

“Okay so,” He starts waving a hand around, something Otabek knows he does when nervous. “Victor. He and Katsudon gave me a key to their place, yeah?”

“Yes?” the Kazakh skater can already see where this is going. Yuri’s face starts to go from a sickly white to peach, to vivid pink. 

“Well I g-guess I ‘forgot’ to call when I went to get Victor for Yakov and they were...”

Otabek feels a small grin form at the back of his jaw, but he holds it back. “Beka like...” Yuri continues, getting more and more flustered. Otabek pushes the water closer to his friend. “I didn’t see anything but I saw…” his waving hand stops mid-air, in a noncommittal gesture. 

“Enough?” Otabek offers.

“I never wanted to see Victor Nikiforov on his knees like that, okay. I never asked for this.”

The smile Otabek is clutching onto tries to wiggle free. Yuri in his flustered state is almost...too comical. 

“They were just like...in the fucking living room! I’ve sat on that couch! I've SLEPT on that couch. I’ll NEVER,” he slams his hands onto the table. “NEVER be able to sit there now. Now without thinking about Victor fucking just…goin’ to town on Yuuri Katsuki.”

Otabek finally can’t hold back. A poorly restrained smile cracks across his mouth. It doesn’t go unnoticed.  
“Beka. I swear to god I’ll throttle you.”  
“It’s just funny how surprised you sound.”  
“I DID NOT WANT TO WALK INTO THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY.” the table whines and rattles with each percussive smack of his hands.  
“To be fair it IS their house.”  
“Beka.”  
“...and they’re married, so I mean...It probably isn’t just the couch, you know?”  
“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Yuri smashes his face against the table this time. Otabek snorts out a restrained laugh. He could sympathize, but it’s just entirely too amusing to see Yuri Plisetsky honestly embarrassed. 

“Oh my god. I’m never going there again.”

–

-Earlier-

“Vvvitya, wait.” Yuuri draws out the V in his name, struggling to finish the sentence.  
Victor only responds with a half-interested hum. Yuuri bites into his lip.  
“Fu—Victor s-seriously, did you hear the door...” Yuuri pushes his fingers into Victor’s hair and pushes his head away. His husband takes a second to catch his breath and meet his eyes. With his flush face and romantic expression, Yuuri almost regrets making him stop. 

“Yura forgot to call.” Victor dabs the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t think he will again.”  
Yuuri lets his head drop against the back of the couch with a resigned sigh. When he looks around to the doorway, he’s... at ease. “There’s no way he saw anything incriminating.” he hums through a veil of relief.  
Victor loops his arms back around Yuuri’s exposed thighs. “May I?”

Yuuri smiles and relaxes back into the sofa, running a hand affectionately across Victor’s warm cheek. “As you were.”

–

 

There’s a single text on Yuri’s phone.  
Yuri chokes on his own breath.  
It’s from Yuuri. 

*Katsudon: I warned you about calling first. 

He wants to scream. 

Seconds later, another message pops in. And another. A short string of them. Yuri already knows it’s Victor. He knows that rapid fire texting style. He feels his face pulse with irate heat. He throws up an indignant middle finger to Otabek who only grins sympathetically in response.

*Idiot: LOL!!  
*Idiot: Tell Yakov I’ll be in @ 2  
*Idiot: ok 2:30  
*Idiot: P.S. i thought we told you to call first?

 

A few more texts show up, but Yuri doesn’t see them as his phone flies across the rink.


End file.
